


The Ribbon Lady

by Scarlet_Claws



Series: Lovers Of Hyer [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Breast Fucking, Collars, Exophilia, F/M, Fantasy, Femdom, Friends With Benefits, Gentle Sex, Hand Jobs, Implied Consent, MILFs, Mute Monster, Porn With Plot, Size Difference, Smut, Teratophilia, Touch-Starved, Widowed, humanoid monster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:21:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23822983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarlet_Claws/pseuds/Scarlet_Claws
Summary: Hyer longs for softness. He sets his eye on Lady Evella, a widow spending her days alone in her lavish mansion. Her terms are simple: a ribbon and patience. Soon, if he's good to her, she'll give him everything he could ever want.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Series: Lovers Of Hyer [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1562377
Kudos: 55





	1. Chapter 1

Bren was fun to toy with. It was fun to bully him, fun to stalk him and see him come undone, fun to throw him in for a loop and have him beg for more as he was pinned under Hyer. But, sometimes, just sometimes, Hyer craved something more, something sweeter than playing the part of the scary, brutish monster. With the wonders brought by the rediscovery of the world came some cravings for softness - the type of softness that one felt against their own body, the slow, lazy strokes of a hand on the side of a face. 

Bren didn't give that. He seemed a little weird about it, as if he was scared of it, even. Scared of what, Hyer could only guess, seeing that he couldn't ask. He always tensed a little when Hyer tried to spend more time with him doing anything else than fucking. The creature quickly got the message and knew that it was best not to press him. As cute as he was, he only seemed to want one thing, and that was fine by Hyer. 

He would have to sate his desire for caresses somewhere else. 

He was a careful one and didn't dare approach the village out of fear of getting spotted. Not that the knight and the page that patrolled it posed any threat, but he didn't want to establish a reputation before he had a chance to meet anyone. He was persuaded that, if he could persuade one human that he was not dangerous, he could persuade others. But that took planning and careful observation. 

Luckily, he didn't have to approach the village to find someone he liked. Up on the hill next to it, a little apart from the road, was a large mansion, the type of place a noble might want to retire for a rest. There lived a woman alone with two old maids and a gardener. She seldom received any visits, although she seemed happy to spend her time reading or sending letters, and she often went through long walks. The only person that seemed to be her equal was the Knight, and all the rest bowed respectfully as she passed them. 

And she looked lovely. Hyer estimated that she might be in her forties, maybe older, and what she had lost in youthful appearance, she had gained in grace and assurance. Everything she touched, she did it with care. Despite her obvious status, her wealth, her confinement, she had kind words for everyone, and her smile made her eyes sparkle in the prettiest of ways. Hyer's heart throbbed when he imagined himself under those soft hands. 

Other parts of him throbbed when he imagined the feel of her voluptuous chest in his own hands. 

Who was she? Hyer had to draw on old memories to start having an idea. Women were always expected to have children, yet she had none around. Either she didn't have any, either they had already left the nest. And did she have a spouse? This last question was particularly interesting to him. He wanted her, obviously, but if she already had someone then he wouldn't want her to cheat on them for his sake. Best case scenario would be for her to be unmarried or widowed, but so far he had no clue which it was just by observing her. 

And, as creepy as it might sound, he did spend quite a bit of time observing her. He felt bad about doing it but he wanted to know more about her. So he watched her from far, guilty, yet waiting for the perfect moment to appear without being capable of finding it.

She liked spending time in her orchard, among her aged apple trees, reading; his guilty pleasure was to climb the wall and watch her from afar. Sometimes, the wind made patches of sunlight dance over her tan skin and her paling dark hair. She held her books from the top and followed the line she was reading with a finger, her head tilted to the side. Her attire was a little more neglected when she didn't expect a visit, sometimes she wore nothing more than a bathrobe and a nightgown - and his breath fluttered when she would lean forward, allowing him to catch sight of the paler flesh on her chest. 

On that day, however, she wore a dress of a simple cut, with her hair up to display the lovely curve of her long neck. Not that he complained. She was always lovely. 

He made sure to remain behind trees as he approached, only glancing at her through the foliage, and never to come too close that she might notice him from the corner of her eye. Some days, it was hard not to break his resolutions and approach her even more, but he had held strong up to now. 

"You can come closer," she suddenly said. 

He froze. There was no one around for her to talk to. He thought, for a second, that she was reading aloud. But then she closed her book and looked up, not _at_ him but around her, looking for something in that graceful manner of hers. 

"I know you are here. I can feel you watching." And she added, in a lower voice, "it's fine if you want to come a bit closer. I like the company." 

Like a child being caught with his hand in the cookie jar, Hyer felt both ashamed and mischievous when he realized that she had known this whole time. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, hesitating, before slowly taking a step in the open. She caught sight of movement from the corner of her eye and turned her head to look at him. 

The expression of surprise that flashed on her features was quickly gone, replaced by a warm smile, and she put her book aside. She seemed unafraid of him, much to his relief. This encouraged him to approach her, although he did so slowly. Even if it was clear that she was not scared of him, he still felt intimidated by her. Even if he was the eldest of the two, she carried the weight of years spent in the world. And there was this quality of grace to her; he felt as if he couldn't compete with that. 

She laughed, gently. "Such a big boy you are, yet you get all shy on me? Come on. I don't bite." 

She pulled her dress off a spot, inviting him to kneel near her. His heart leapt in his chest when he saw that he was allowed so close, and he did all but rush to claim his spot. Even when he sat on his heels, he was at eye-level with her, yet he felt like he was the small one, for once. 

He didn't mind. And she didn't seem to mind either. 

"So," she said. "You're the mysterious admirer that's been spying on me. I must say, I didn't exactly expect you to be..." Her eyes roamed over his form. "This exotic. Not that I mind. You wouldn't hurt a fly, wouldn't you?" 

He shook his head energetically. Now that he doesn't have to anymore, he would never. 

"I thought so." She reached out to him, quite spontaneously, stroking his cheek. "You're a sweetheart, aren't you?" 

He eagerly leaned into her touch. Yes. This is what he had been wanting from her. She chuckled a little and didn't draw her hand away. Instead, she touched him more, on the forehead and cheeks, and even a little on the neck, before she explored the texture of his hair. He shivered from the touch of her gentle fingers. 

"You're so cute," she said. "There is no need to be so shy with a face like yours. What's your name?" 

He made a distressed sound, trying to convey that he couldn't speak. From the look on her face, she understood what he meant. She didn't judge. She just patted him on the head, reassuringly, not wanting to see him stressed about it. 

"It's all right," she told him. "I'll just call your sweetheart, then. Would you like that?" 

He would have written down his name for her eventually but he liked the nickname more, so he nodded enthusiastically. She laughed and leaned down to kiss him on the cheek. And then she reeled him in until his head was on her lap and petted him, her hands gently exploring his hair, shoulder and neck.

He could have purred, but this was yet another sound he couldn't produce. Instead, he sighed in content and closed his eyes. She smelled like apple pie and roses. The breeze murmured in the leaves. A bird sang.

"It's a shame you can't talk," she said after a few moments of quiet. "I have so many questions about you, ever since I noticed you lurking around. I want to know what you are, and where you came from. And, most importantly I think, what you want from me." 

He opened his eyes to look up at her. She gave him that gentle smile of hers. He realized how very close he was to her, remembered how much he had wanted that. Before he could stop himself, he glanced at her blossom. He wanted nothing more than to bury his face in it and breathe in her scent until he became drunk on it. 

She chuckled. "Men," she said. "I should have known." 

He diverted his eyes, looking at a spot on the canopy above them. This was different than with Bren, he actually felt a little ashamed of how much he wanted that. She was so graceful and kind, out of his league, that he had no claim on her. And yet, he couldn't help himself. 

She stroked his cheek, bringing his attention back to her face. 

"Good boys sometimes get rewards," she said, "for visiting lonely women like me. I wouldn't mind some company, even a quiet one. If I tell you 'not now', would you come back tomorrow?" 

He perked up, turning so that he would be resting his chin on her thigh, and nodded enthusiastically. He would come every day for years if he had to - if he could. He just wanted someone to look at him the way she looked at him now. He had missed this sort of attention so, so much. 

"Then it is a deal," she said. "But first, let me give you a little something to remind you, just in case." 

She reached to her hair and pulled on the ribbon that held it up; her curls fell over her bare shoulders in sensual waves. And then she lifted his head so that he would present her his neck. She tied it there and made a pretty bowknot, fretting with it for several moments after her deftly fingers had finished it so that it would be perfect. He turned his head right and left when he was allowed, finding that it didn't hinder him. 

A collar. 

One he didn't mind carrying, he found. It was soft and silk-light, like her touch, a gentle tie he could pull away at any moment. If she claimed him in any way, it was only to draw him closer, in exchange for a spot for his head on her thigh. The ribbon was an ornament to be carried as a privilege. 

He hummed in content. 

"It suits you," she said. "Maybe finding some clothes for you would be fun. More fun than reading the same dusty old books, anyway." She rubbed at a spot on his cheek. "And getting you a bath, as well." 

This sounded lovely. Neither had occurred to him as something he needed before that moment, but if _she_ was the one giving them to him...

There was a movement in the garden, beyond the gate that led to the orchard. He turned to it and tensed. She turned around, following his gaze until she too noticed her maid coming over. 

When she turned back to him, he was gone; disappeared without a sound. 

She gentle chuckled to herself, amused. He was so shy, the little sweetheart. She was glad she had finally gotten to meet him. 

"M'lady Evella," said her maid when she was close enough. "The five o'clock tea is ready, as you asked." 

"He came," she replied. 

"He?" The maid was confused, then a flash of understanding appeared on her face as she recalled some of their earlier conversations. "The one that's been spying on you?" 

"I take that you haven't seen him. He was with me just moments ago." 

"Can't say I have, m'lady." 

"He was quite cute. Too bad he can't speak like us humans, but he was clear enough with his intentions." 

"He is a monster? Do you want me to call for Sir Galandor?" 

"Oh, no no, he is the least threatening monster I have had the pleasure to meet. In fact, if you could keep this as our little secret, I would be quite grateful." 

"As you wish, m'lady. My lips are tied." 

"Thank you." Lady Evella picked up her book and stood up from her seat. "Now, I am quite thirsty. I believe that this tea you mentioned comes right on time." 

"Right this way, m'lady."


	2. Chapter 2

Hyer craved her. 

There was Bren, of course there was, but it wasn't the same. Bren was not interested in him the way she was interested. Bren didn't touch him the way she did. Bren filled the needs of a purely physical relationship, but he left gaps; gaps that her gentle fingers fitted right into. 

He came to visit her as often as he could. 

She seemed to expect him at all time, and she always seemed to have something for him to do. Sometimes, it was sitting in the shade of her orchard and listening to her reading. Sometimes it was idle talking, and sometimes she offered him something to eat. And while he didn't need food, he gladly accepted the treats and the drinks prepared by her maids. 

He quickly suspected that the woman's staff knew of his existence, even if they kept their distance. She would sit out in the open as if without fear of being seen, inviting him to do so with her; if she would have wanted to keep him as a secret, she wouldn't have done that. And then there was the second cup that was always included for him when tea was served, and _that_ couldn't be an accident. 

She often spoke about her life as she spoiled him with her attention, with the easiness of someone that had made her peace with it - a peace that accepted rather than downplayed the importance of what had happened to her. She mentioned her late husband, how his sudden death had torn her family apart: after his sickness and departure, her two sons had grown beyond their years and taken matters in their own hands at the royal court. One was a knight and a promising one at that; the other ambitioned, as a lord, to be admitted to the King's counsellor table. She missed them dearly and hoped that they were doing all right, but her place was here, in her countryside house. No one was interested in her anymore, they had already moved on to the next generation. And, besides, she prefered the quiet. 

Yet, for someone so far away from court life, she was quite informed of the ins and outs of it. She spoke of the most recent events and even read him some of the correspondence she shared with her friends still living there. That is how Hyer learned of what had become of the man that had freed him, how the legendary sword in his possession now kept the enemies of the kingdom at a distance. He nodded along to this information as he did for the rest. He was glad that he didn't have to be part of that anymore. Instead, he could enjoy a sunny afternoon with Lady Evella, where the most crucial thing he needed to know was if the maids could see him through the window. 

"I had sir Galandor come today," she said one day. "He's told me of a creature that seems to be lurking around the woods and the village and that I might want to take a bodyguard." 

He looked up at her and saw in her eyes that she knew it was him the knight had been talking about. He could have sworn that he had taken every precaution, but it apparently he had still been spotted from time to time.

"I told him that I would be all right. He is a good man. He does his best with what he has, but he is nothing but a small knight trying to defend the land he had been given." She passed her hand in Hyer's hair. "Now, tell me. You are not causing him any more trouble than necessary on purpose, right?" 

Hyer shook his head. He didn't want anything to do with the knight. He was not his type. He wished there was some way to tell sir Galandor that he meant no harm without coming face to face with him, but so far no occasion had presented itself. Hyer didn't really think that it would be important. 

"I thought so. You would never, Sweetheart." 

She scratched him under the chin and he sighed in content, fluffing up his hair. There was always that persistent touch of heat down between his legs when she showered him with her attention, but the pleasure he got from it still remained somewhat platonic - and he liked it a lot. The ribbon he carried on his neck was her promise to him, but he was finding it easier and easier to wait as time passed by.

They spent several more moments together, eating and talking - or rather, she fed him and told him about the little things she had been up to since the last time he had seen each other. And he enjoyed it all. But she still had an announcement for him, one that came as there was nothing but crumbs on the tray next to the teapot. 

"I did say once that I would give you a bath," she said. 

He perked up. 

"Tonight, I'll open the window to my room. I know you climb better than what one would guess for something your size, so you can come in through the apple tree in front of it. I'll have it all ready for you." 

He breathed in deeply to keep calm. He didn't know what sort of promise that was, but it couldn't be anything but a good one. She was smiling at him in a way that gave him hope, but she didn't say anything, and he couldn't ask - only guess. 

She chuckled and patted him on the head.

He lied in wait in the shadows of the orchard, his gaze raised to the windows of her room. The sun was down and he could now see the ceiling through them, a ceiling lit by the soft glow of candles. Sometimes, a shadow danced across it from someone moving in front of the light source. He ached to see her instead but she remained out of sight. 

To think that he had thought of nothing but that all afternoon was an understatement. He had been frantic, pacing the woods impatiently, constantly oscillating between excitement and restrain. He still didn't know if she would allow him to take her. He really wanted that to happen, but she might have planned this time they had together as a test. He had thought himself capable of waiting months for the moment where they would lay together, but he was proven wrong the moment she dangled the possibility of it happening in front of him. He had been a fool. 

Maybe a lucky fool, if his intuition proved true tonight. 

It seems that he had been waiting for ages when she finally graced him with the sight of her. She appeared behind the glass of her window, opened it, and peered out in the dark. He held his breath.

She squinted right at him, but he remained perfectly still. Human eyes were weak when it came to see through the darkness; he knew that. It amused him when she didn't see him at all then eventually walked away, leaving the window opened behind her for him to follow. 

She had advised using the tree near her window. He decided otherwise. With a smooth, cat-like leap, he perched at the window, suddenly pouncing from the dark. She turned around in a hurry and saw him crouched at the edge of the night. From surprised, her expression turned amused, with a hint of mischief. 

"You'd be a deadly foe if there was a single mean bone in your body, Sweetheart," she said. That last fact didn't seem to worry her - she trusted him. "I didn't know you were there." 

He chuckled as he stepped into the room. 

It was by no means a small one, but last time he had found himself in such a tight place, it had been during his days in the cave. He had to lean down to stand under the ceiling, and he moved quickly there was a risk that he might hit one of the poles on the four-poster bed. 

Luckily, the tub she had prepared for him seemed large enough. It was a basin of sculpted wood, almost a work of art, with images of dryads and satyrs on the side of it. Steam slowly rose from the surface of the water. It was placed in front of the fireplace, in which a mass of glowing embers still rested. She threw in a log and turned to look at him. 

"Let's get you undressed," she said. 

For a second, he was confused as to what she meant. Didn't she realize that he didn't have clothing? But then she reached for his neck, and he understood. He let her take off the ribbon at her leisure. 

His heart was pounding in his chest as he considered what that might mean. 

"Why don't you sit in?" she asked. "It will be more comfortable this way." 

He nodded and stepped into the water. The temperature was just at the limit of the bearable for him, even if for someone more used to hot bath than he was it would have been fine. Yet he lowered himself in the water without a complain, eager to do anything she might want him to do. 

She kneeled next to the basin. She had changed since this afternoon, into a white linen dress. It was opaque but it looked like the sort of thing that might become transparent if wet. And the look she sent him told him that this was her intention. He gulped and parted his legs ever-so-slightly, just in case. Her eyes went to the knees out of the water but she didn't comment. 

She pulled out a soap bar. It smelled wonderful, of flowers and fruits - the same fruity smell that clung to her skin when he was allowed really close to her. She wetted the brush she had prepared, then rubbed it on the soap. When she was satisfied with the quantity, she said,

"Lean forward a bit, let's start with your back."

He obeyed. She started taking the grime off him with gentle rubs, slowly - torturously slowly. He held on his knees as he waited for her to be satisfied. He really wasn't very dirty, he bathed in rivers when he was given the occasion, yet she took her time with him. 

From his back she went to his shoulders, and from his shoulders she went for his cresting hair. He was starting to appreciate it, seeing as it felt like a slow massage. He closed his eyes until she asked him to put his head under the water to rinse. He did so happily. 

Then she came around to take care of the front. 

Closing his eyes was no longer possible. Her dress was indeed transparent when wet, as he discovered. The paler colour of her breast passed through, and even the darker rim of a nipple. His throat became dry as he rose his eyes to her face once more. The smile on her face was anything but innocent. Under the water, between his legs, a dull pulse was making itself known. 

She laid her brush on the top of his chest and started to rub. He didn't know if it was true or just his impatiences giving him this impression, but it seemed to him that she was being even slower than before. His breath came out in short bursts by the time she had reached the zone under his pecks. And she kept going lower, until her arm was underwater and the front of her dress accidentally dipped in it. He held his breath. She was so close to discovering his knot of heat. He wanted her. 

She leaned back. 

His eyes went to the front of her dress again. The thin fabric clung to the roundness of her breast, making no secret of her endowment. He wanted to palm and claw it, knew that she was inviting him to do so, but he didn't dare. He, that could grab a man and fuck him senseless against a tree, remained fascinated and paralysed with desire. 

She smiled at him, gently, then tapped one of his knees. "Give me your leg." 

He did, sticking it out over the side of the basin. She took some more soap and started at the ankle, slowly making her way upwards. He produced a small whimper when he realized that she was starting to wash him from so far away, that the slow burn of her approaching was only restarting. She sent him an amused glance but did nothing to lessen his delicious torture. 

The idea to ask her to hurry came to his mind. After all, he was sure that, should he tug at her or even grab her, she would get the message. But there was something about the way that she was taking care of him, despite her obvious rank, that humbled and intimidated him. It wasn't every day that she washed someone and he knew that. It felt strange, almost, to have her doing that - not that he complained. He would be lying to himself if he thought that he wasn't aroused by that. 

She arrived at his knee, then slowly moved up his thigh. This was even worse than when she was doing his stomach. When the brush moved over the inside of his thigh, it was like a bolt of heat shot him in the crotch, and it took all his willpower not to thrust up. He whimpered again. 

She looked up at him, and they shared a long look. Her eyes were smouldering him, yet he couldn't look away. She was toying with him. She was toying with him and she enjoyed every moment of it. 

"This is the most fun I've had in a while," she said in a low voice. It caressed his nerves, making him draw a shaky breath. "Other leg."

He folded the one she had been taking care of, then presented the other, and it was the same torture all over again. By the time she had reached his knee, he had no idea how he had not yet reached out for her, and the effort it costed him to restrain himself couldn't be anything but plain on his face. He was gripping the edge of the tub until his fingers hurt and gritting his teeth. 

She moved down into the water, closer to his heat. It almost hurt. He needed her touch. 

"You're so cute," she said. "Sweetheart. Such a good boy you are, waiting so patiently. I'm sure you are ready for your reward now." 

He looked at her. Bit his lip. And nodded. 

She smiled and palmed him. Her hand felt cool against the furnace of his crotch. It took only the smallest of pressure to have his opening give in, and then he was utterly at her mercy.


	3. Chapter 3

She gave him slow, lazy strokes at first, gently prying him out of his slit. The water, now covered in a skin of bubbles, stopped him from seeing her doing this, but he could most certainly feel it. His hands gripped the side of the tub so tightly that he feared that he might break it, but it was like he was perched at the top of a cliff but pulled down, into the roaring waves at the bottom, by a force he couldn't resist. A gentle one, that bid her time, knowing that he would have to give in eventually. 

"Poor you," she muttered. "You look like you've been so neglected. You're all right now, Sweetheart, I'll take care of you." 

He whimpered. Her hand glided over his cock, teasing him at the sensitive end. The coming and going were slow, yet he rose his hips each time she went up the length of his dick, without being able to help himself. He tried spreading his legs even wider, found that he was half-trapped by the side of the basin, and lifted his second leg over the water to finish the movement. And then he was comfortable enough to close his eyes, but he couldn't help biting his lip. 

She chuckled. "Look at me, Sweetheart." 

He opened his eyes and met hers. She was devouring him, taking every detail of him with a hunger that made him shiver - but not in fear, far from that. He remained mesmerized by her gaze and she didn't tear hers away. She could do anything to him and he would let her. They both knew it. 

"How about you show me how much you like it when I touch you here, Sweetheart?" she asked. "Make some sound for me. Go on. Don't worry, no one but me would hear you." 

He hiccuped and his cock twitched in her hand. Her tone was so soft, yet with that underlying authority that took no excuse. He had no idea why this aroused him as much as it did, but he _had_ to obey. 

And he found that it was easy to obey. Next time she rubbed the head of his cock, he let a small moan escape him, then another, a little louder. The tension in his body lessened. She nodded, approving of it, and her hand became quicker. 

He leaned his head back and started to moan with wanton abandon. 

"Good boy," she said. "You're such a good boy, Sweetheart. You're making me proud." 

He would do anything to make her even prouder. 

As if she sensed that thought of his, she started to slow down, before stopping entirely. He whined when she backed away from his cock, pushing his hips up when she let go of him. She couldn't leave him like that, he _wanted_ her to continue, he was going mad--

"Hush, you big baby," she said. She kissed his brow on her way up. "We got to get you out of the bath before you soil it even more." 

She stepped away from him, making her way to the bed. His heart leapt in his chest and he was out of the water in an instant, almost knocking the basin over. But she stilled him with a raise of her hand. 

"Sweetheart, you're all wet." 

he looked down at himself, almost surprised, and had to agree that his state would just ruin the bed. There was a cloth on a seat near him, that he picked up to dry himself. His erections didn't falter one bit as he quickly took care of the wetness. He could feel her burning gaze on him as he did so. 

He turned to her when he was done and she seemed to survey him for a moment. Then, when she seemed satisfied with the result, she reached behind her neck and unhooked something. The front of her dress fell. He drank in the sight of her breast, heavy, resting lower than their prime but still round and so appealing to touch. Never had he wanted something as badly than how he wanted to be close to her, touching her, right at this moment. 

She only had to beckon him once. In an instant, he was over her, seeking the way to her kisses and her soft skin. 

"No," she said. "Sweetheart, down." 

Miraculously, he found the will to back away from her, kneeling in front of her like he had done so many time. In his crotch, his cock was throbbing with need. He balled his fists in the sheets and waited. 

"Don't worry. You're a good boy." She stroked the side of his face. "Lay down on the bed." 

He slowly got up and did as she told him. When he realized that, as he was laying on his back, that she had not looked away one second, he crossed his hands over his stomach, not really knowing what to do now. 

She nodded and started to move herself. She sat down on the sheets at the level of his hips and reached a hand to him. 

"Pillow," she said. 

He handed her one; she placed it under his hips, lifting them. A wave of embarrassment washed over him, heaving heat in his cheeks. He was presented to her now, in a way he had never been presented before. This aroused him more than what he thought it would. He was older than her by far, but what were ages passed when they had been spent in a cave? She knew what she was doing, better than he. 

"Remember what I told you. And no moving." 

He nodded. 

The moment she touched him again, a bead of precum appeared at the tip of his cock and dripped down the side. She rose her brows when she saw it, but didn't comment. He must have already been leaking in the bath without realizing it. 

She seemed to appreciate the fact that, even dry, there was some slickness to him, more around the base, but the friction from her hand quickly spread it to all of him. She interrupted her touch, just a second, to rub her fingers and try to determine if she liked the feeling of his slick, ignoring his whines. She nodded briefly before continuing, taking the discovery in strides, and he was back at moaning without a care in the world. 

The fire was dying out; the few candles that were still lit around them only highlighted the lovely contour of her silhouette. With each movement of her hand on him, her breast gently swayed. He couldn't get his eyes off them; they had also been the part of her she had used to tease him the most. If she wouldn't have ordered him not to do so, he would have been already reaching for them. Just thinking about holding them made his cock twitch. Oh, he was getting close. 

She knew that as well. The second time she interrupted herself was the last. 

He didn't really understand why she was leaning forward until he felt the press of her breast on his sex. She cupped them, gathering them around him, and planted her eyes in his with unshaken confidence. 

He drew in a long, shaky breath. 

She understood how close he was. She didn't take it slow this time, but instead gave him firm, quick strokes. He grunted and thrust up as she pleased him. The heat was starting to build down between his hips, heat that climbed up his spine and fried his brain. Sounds flowed out of him and he couldn't stop them. Not that he wanted to.

She covered the tip of his sex when he came with her hand so that she wouldn't get anything on her face, but his cum splashed all over her blossom. Not that he cared. He threw his head back and arched his spine, his toes curling against the sheets, and wailed. She kept stroking him as he rode it out, for a few seconds more where the tremours coursing through his body still drove him mad with pleasure. She only stopped when he relaxed on the sheets. 

She straightened and got up, but it was only so that she could sit closer to his face. 

"Was that good?" she asked. "Hmm. I think it was. You enjoyed your little reward, didn't you, Sweetheart?" 

He nodded, still a little dazzled. 

"Good. That was for you being good and, if you keep it up, you'll get more." 

He glanced down at her chest. His cum slowly dripped down, following the alluring curves on her agate-coloured skin. 

He got up on one elbow and slowly approached her. She crooked a brow when he came near, but didn't react any more than that. He took it as a sign that he was allowed to lick her clean. 

He didn't taste nice, the salty tang of his cum sticking to the roof of his mouth. But this wasn't the point. The feelings of her softness on his sensitive tongue, being so close that he was inundated with her scent, and the gentle petting she gave him, all that made it worth it a thousand times. So he licked her clean and then some, until she stopped him and gently pushed him away. 

But she didn't let him go. 

"Sweetheart, show me that tongue of yours," she said. 

He swallowed his saliva and stuck out the tip. She tangled her fingers with it and gently pried it out. Her eyes widened ever-so-slightly when she saw its length and girth, and how it wrapped around her fingers.

"Oh, so you were hiding that from me, were you?" she asked. "You're a bit of a naughty boy now, are you?" 

He shook his head. He wasn't. If he had had any idea that she would enjoy discovering this side of him, he would have shown her in an instant. 

She chuckled. "Don't make that face, Sweetheart, I'm only teasing you. Now... lay right back down." 

He did so as she stood up and watched her undress fully, her dress dropping down her legs. For the first time, he was treated to the full sight of her. He wanted to reach out to her all over again. But he remained put, knowing that his time was coming. 

Up to this point, he had only pay attention to her breast because this is what she had used the most to grab his attention, choosing dresses that accentuated their shape before this evening, but he found that he couldn't take his eyes off from the rest of her. So many times he had laid his head on her thighs without thinking much of it when now he was discovering how firm and full they looked. He itched to grab and part them, to be allowed to find the treasure she kept between them. Or, if anything, he wanted to follow the marks of age on her stomach with a finger because they seemed to invite him on an exploration trip on her skin. The effect she had on him was undeniable. Even naked, she stood proudly, knowing what sort of attention she was due. She would tolerate nothing else. 

She climbed back on the bed and straddled his chest. She stroked his face, once, gently. They both knew that she was about to ruin him.


	4. Chapter 4

"You like it when I'm good for you, right?" she said. 

He nodded. 

"So you'll be good for me." He stroked the side of his face. "It's an exchange, you see. That's what makes good sex." 

An exchange she controlled every single aspect of. Not that he minded. In fact, she did it so much better than what he could do himself that he would gladly relish every bit of control to her should he have to choose again. There was something so awe-inspiring about her that he had to.

Her hand became more insistent as it touched him, stroking his chest and neck. He reached up tentatively to stroke her thighs and was rewarded by a smile from her. He took it as a sign that he was allowed to continue, so he did. 

His hands climbed up her thigh to rest on her hips. She had stopped touching him and was now waiting to see what he was going to do next. This cranked up the pressure a bit, so he kept to her hips, tracing small circles on her skin with his thumbs. 

She understood his predicament. She went to take one of his hands and brought it down. 

"Over here," she said. 

He gasped when he felt her heat at the tip of her fingers. Long ago, he had touched a woman, he knew, but rediscovering just how hot and soft one was down there made him shudder with desire. Even after being brought to completion, there was a hot current going through his body each time he progressed his finger a little further. 

"Is it your first time seeing a woman?" she asked.

He shook his head. 

"Then you know how it works?" 

He hesitated, but the question, oddly enough, prompted him to explore some more. He palmed her, fingers exploring her entrance already. She moved her hips and pressed in his hand, but also moved away from his exploration. 

"Please me from the outside a little," she said. "We're in no hurry, right, Sweetheart?" 

That was all she needed to say. He shifted his hand, parting her folds, looking for the small nub he remembered to be there. He found it, slight hard against his thumb, and rubbed it. She arched her back with a soft moan, much to his amazement. He did the best he could, taking care that he never left her a moment unstimulated, and soon enough were her hips gently rocking in his grip. 

The way she looked at him burned. 

"That's enough," she said. He stopped immediately. "Now, Sweetheart, do you know what I want from you?" 

He hesitated, then nodded. He had an idea. He wanted it to happen to, so much that he was scared that he was hoping too much. She smiled when she saw the face he made and shifted her position so that she would sit higher up his body. 

He was presented with her pussy, and no sight could have excited him more. It was warm and wet, and smelled so female it made him dizzy with lust. He adjusted his hands on her hips gave her a tentative lick. Her folds parted for him until the small nub of her clit rested against his tongue. He heard her gasped as he pressed there. 

He enjoyed moving his tongue back and forth for a few more moments, giving special attention to her sensitive nub, before he changed tactics and returned to the entrance he had previously been denied. When the tip teased as the possibility of entering, she pushed down against him. This simple gesture made his arousal flare. He drew in a shaky breath. 

She tasted so female. Once again, it wasn't so much that he was meant to enjoy it, yet he felt so privileged doing just that. With her thighs on each side of his face, he was everywhere he could see, and most importantly above him; the way she stared down at him with hunger was almost too much to bear. He had to close his eyes as he focused on pushing deeper into her, just so that he could muster the courage to do so. 

He heard her gasp as he did so. He walls twitched and tightened around him briefly, welcoming him, pressing him as if he was giving her his cock. He might as well have been. He didn't know why his tongue was this sensitive, but when she moved her hips to help ease her in, a jolt of pleasure made him groan. He felt her hand on his scalp and looked up. 

"Enjoying yourself, Sweetheart?" she asked. 

Nodding in this position would have been awkward. Instead, he pushed his tongue further in and was pleased to see her expression change to surprise. Her fingers briefly grappled at his hair as he started a slow back and forth. 

She was most certainly enjoying herself. 

With each coming and going, he pushed further in. He used the flexibility of his tongue to his advantage, twisting it around to make sure that he was touching every bit inside of her. She bit her lip for a moment, visibly struggling not to outright melt on him, but she eventually had to give in. Never had he heard sweeter sounds that the moans that came out of her mouth, yet he immediately wanted more. He wanted to see her come undone on his face. 

He was soon given the means to do just that to her. As he stroked her very depth, he noticed a slight tremor in her thighs against his cheeks. He remembered from long ago what that spot did to a woman. He plundered it, his tip tracing firm circles on it. 

"Oh, Sweetheart," she gasped. "Yes. You're doing so good." 

Her words made a warm glow bloom in his chest that wasn't just lust. She was pleased with him, very pleased, her smile as she looked down at him told him as much. He whimpered all against her, and the vibrations of his voice went straight to that spot inside of her. Her entire body jolted from the pleasure. Out of instinct, her hands went to her breast to massage them. 

"You are doing wonderfully," she said, "but can you move in and out a little more? I'm getting close, Sweetheart." 

Just hearing that made his heartbeat quicken by a hundred. He did as she told him immediately, his tongue retreating back in his mouth before returning to her. Her wetness, her taste, became even more potent until he was drunk on her. Her channel welcomed him on each of his thrusts, inviting him to advance all the way to the deepest and most sensitive reaches of her, before it would willingly let him leave her. And then there was the sight of her, the sound of her, moaning over him as she rubbed her breast and pinched her erect nipples. She was losing herself to the pleasure and so did he, each time her folds parted for the length of his tongue. 

"Sweetheart." 

She came after uttering his nickname. Her channel clenched around him right before she cried out as if her orgasm had taken half a second to reach her brain. She pushed her hips down against him, forcing him to push in her as deeply as he could before her hips spasmed rhythmically. He was relentless with pleasing her, back against that spot inside of her with all her had, and she only cried out louder when he did.

But then came the moment of the final wave, and it was like an explosion. She threw her head back with a long cry and her thighs locked around him. As if he would try to escape. As if he would ever dream of leaving her like this when she needed him so much. 

She almost fell back in the aftermath, only held up by her throwing her arms back to remain up. She didn't move away from him. As she regained her composure, he slowly pulled away. 

But his desire for her wasn't leaving. In fact, the heat in his stomach had only grown. Seeing her like that was only making him hungrier for more. More of her, her heat, her soft body, her desire. He was intoxicated with her. 

He pressed against her with a soft whimper, but she misunderstood and backed away from him. She took her time with each movement as if scared that she was going to fall again. But she did take the time to stroke his face with a soft smile. 

"Thank you, Sweetheart. You did well." 

He greedily leaned into the contact. She still didn't understand, because she chuckled and kissed him on the forehead before she slipped between the covers. But she held them open. 

"Will you be staying?" she asked. 

Of course he would. He was all against her in the blink of an eye, face in her neck, hands around her, trying to kiss her and hug her as she laughed. And then he pressed his crotch against her leg with insistence, humping her, and he saw on her face that she finally understood what she wanted. 

"Again?" She laughed. Even if she was glowing with content at the moment, displeased by his desire was the furthest thing from her mind. "You're a stallion, my Sweet." 

He didn't care what he was, he just wanted more - a little more, not much more, anything she would give him. His cock was begging to be released again, but he didn't dare reach down to it unless she gave him permission. 

She did him one better. She went to free it herself. Her hand nestled against him, opening him smoothly. He groaned against her neck and she laughed. 

"You're all sticky," she said. "Clean your face before I go on. There is a towel on the table next to the bed." 

He turned away from her reluctantly and did as she said. But the moment he was clean, he was back against her, whimpering softly. 

"Aww, patience. Patience, Sweetheart." 

Her warm hand grabbed his cock, and she started to stroke it. He was very content with just remaining all against her, moaning softly as he felt better and better. She didn't tease him as she did before, moving with confidence on his sex, and he was grateful for that. She would murmur some encouragements in his ear, little things about how cute he was, and he answered with more moans. 

He didn't know how long it lasted, but it couldn't have been too long. The fresh memory of her over him, combined to her actual presence next to him already excited him beyond measure. It only took a few encouragements on her part and he was coming for the second time that night, soiling her thighs. She told him to clean up with the towel and he did. 

When he placed it back, he noticed that there was something else on the nightstand: his ribbon. She had not put it back on him after his bath. He looked at it with some longing, wondering if he would ever carry it again and what that might mean for the two of them. 

Not that he cared. After having come, his body was ready to just lay and bask in the afterglow. 

"Come over here," she told him. She guided him so that he would lay on the other side of her, closer to the window. "I like the left side of the bed more." 

He chuckled. 

"Why, can you blame an old woman like me for having her habits?" she asked in a teasing tone. 

He kissed her cheek. Maybe she was a little older, but he didn't really care. All he saw when he looked at her was someone that knew what she was doing when she sat on his face, and that was the most attractive thing he had seen all month. 

And she had been through so much. He loved hearing her stories and spending time with her. She reminded him what it was to be alive and enjoying someone else's company. 

"Good night, Sweetheart," she told him. 

He kissed her again and let her drift away in his arms. 

Someone came in the room that night. 

Hyer tensed when he heard the door opening. Of course, he wasn't sleeping, he couldn't sleep. He still enjoyed lying perfectly still with her in his arms, listening to her breathe. He would rather be there than anywhere in the world. 

The maid walked over to the bed. She was holding a candle but shielding it with her hand so that its light wouldn't fall on her mistress' face. He watched her approach, and finally arrive near the bed. 

She gasped when there gaze met and flinched, visibly repressing the urge to run away. He laid perfectly still, an arm around her, his face nestled in the crook of her neck, but he was tense. What did this other woman want? She didn't seem to be carrying any weapon but he was warry. 

"So, that's what you look like," she whispered. 

Her words surprised him. Was she just curious about him? He rose his head ever so slightly, both to take a better look at her and to allow her to see his full face. She watched him intensely for a few more moments, then nodded. 

She had had her full. 

"I won't be bothering you any more," she said. "Goodnight." 

He nodded at her and laid back down, closing his eyes. He listened to her walk away from the bed and gently close the door behind her.

She stirred in the early morning and, somehow, he knew that this time it wasn't just her moving in her sleep. She cracked an eye and looked down at him, before giving him her most beautiful smile. 

"You stayed," were the first words she uttered.

He smiled back as an answer. 

"I thought you would have left. You got everything you wanted from me." 

He shook his head. It was not that he expected more from her, it was just that he didn't see why he would leave as long as he was allowed to say. Did she think that he didn't enjoy staying with her?

"I supposed that I'll be taking care of you a while longer, then," she said. 

Before he could answer, she leaned over and picked something from the side of the bed. It was the ribbon that she had tied around his neck before. He perked up when he saw it.

"Then, I suppose you could still have this. Would you want that?" 

He nodded. She chuckled and tied it around his neck again, where it belonged. 

"I wonder what you see in little old me for being so persistent," she said. "But I won't be complaining. You're too sweet to me for complaints." 

He would have answered that he reciprocated the sentiment, but the words... the words were never there for him. So, instead, he took her hand and kissed the back of her palm, and that was his promise to her that he would be there for her as long as she wanted him. 


End file.
